The lonesome writer got out of bed. Tired. Restless. Her sex drive screaming.
The laptop still on the sidetable. They both were in a terrible drought.
Months had passed since she last produced a text. She began to understand that she would not get any proper sleep before she had written something of substance.
Then, she felt someone's breath in her ear. She jumped scared, as she lived alone and did not keep male visitors at night. Nervously, she turned around to see if anyone was there, or if she was starting to go crazy - another curse of being a writer; if you don't write, you will lose your sleep and your sanity.
"Are you talking to yourself?" said a male voice.
"N-no", said the writer. "I was thinking it. Wasn't I?"
"I can hear your thoughts", he said. And in the dark, he pulled aside his long devillock that was hiding his face. With his boyish grin and glowing red eyes, he was both beautiful and frightening.
A creature only fathomable through the veil of insomnia.
"You're an...an...oh my god, I didn't think this was actually possible," the writer said, her eyes wide with surprise, and her hand crawling up to her mouth like a spider.
"I'm a what? What, is not actually possible?"
"An incubus. You're a fucking incubus."
"A fucking incubus indeed. You think you're too innocent for this, but...your body summoned me. Your mad sex drive called on me. I am here to fulfill your needs."
"Oh, well...yeah, the thing is - I've heard so much bad stuff about accepting favours from demons. I mean, you're not doing this for your clients..."
"Clients." the incubus repeated, snickering.
"Yes. Clients. You're not doing this for them, you're doing it for your own damn pleasure."
"Damn right."
She realized she had taken her slipdress off, without noticing.
"I'm Wraxneth. What's your name, writer?" the incubus asked.
"Butterscotch", the writer said.
"Really? Butterscotch?"
"Yeah."
"That must be like, your author persona or something. No parent names their child Butterscotch."
"Sure they do, if the child is cute enough."
"Is that sass? Are you trying to out-sass an incubus?"
"I'm just saying that you may call me Butterscotch."
"Sure, if you say so, your Highness. I'll turn you into your Wetness and drown that ego of yours in your own cum - it's disproportionate to your accomplishments in life. Don't let that remark get to you though, I'm a demon after all, I'm wired to be a bit mean. I'll call you Butterscotch, yeah, if it turns you on. That's what I'm here to do anyway, to turn you on and to FUCK you."
